


Beyond the Invisible

by Empress_of_Destruction



Category: Wishmaster (Movies)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Demon Deals, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demonic Possession, Demons, Fantasy, Fantasy Racism, Gen, Human/Monster Romance, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Other, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Soul Stealing, Suggestive Themes, Threats of Violence, Will add more as they appear - Freeform, Xenophilia, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-07-02 16:45:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15800565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empress_of_Destruction/pseuds/Empress_of_Destruction
Summary: Are there different ways to summon a djinn? What happens when you summon a demonic-ish maid to grant your every wish? How much will your life change?





	1. Faust

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of the characters, I don't own the Wishmaster franchise, I don't own the other fandoms I will later install.

Some funeral this is! Being in a dark lifeless room filled with people you never knew your grandmother had connections with. And to find out that she, the person you spent five years with, may not be the stereotypical old granny you thought her to be. You sit in the front bench of the funeral home closest to your grandmother having already cried enough tears to fill an ocean or two. You notice how many people from different origins have come to the wake. A few are in clothes that cover them from head to toe, others in ritualistic garb you are delighted to see, as you never seen them before. The head of this group walks forward to give his condolences along with introducing himself. He doesn’t have much layers on him except for his leather jacket over a plain white shirt and new jeans. Soft brown eyes with matching hair, he claims his name is Cabal, but he doesn’t mind if you call him Aaron Boone.

You thank him with a sad smile as Boone’s group paid their respects. One guy catches your attention since he looks near tomato red, even his dreads match the color of his face from what escapes his Newsboy cap. The man meets your eye, pulling down his sunglasses enough to get a glimpse of unnaturally turquoise eyes. You would have been freaked out if he didn’t send you a wink. Another man from this group smacks the red one upside the head. Now this person has an elongated chin with a stringy beard braided at the end. You could have sworn the second man had a crescent shaped head! You write it off as stress getting mixed with lack of sleep.

However, you know one man for sure. His name is Alexander Stevens, he had been hounding your grandmother for years to sell her antique shop. He’s in the very back seemingly to be quite upset about the passing. His faded blonde hair just peeking out from the crowd wearing a dark grey suit with a flower brooch that he had bought from the shop. You didn’t know if you should be pleasantly surprised or not. Either way, this guy will want to have words with you.

Once the funeral had wrapped up, you walk out of the home to find none other than Alexander waiting for you. You feel a frown tug at the corners of your mouth as you spot him. Couldn’t he wait until tomorrow? Your fate was sealed when the Men in Black wannabe briskly catches up to you. You square your stance ready to tell him to leave,

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m very sorry about your grandmother. She was a great lady.” Alex gently states in the sincerest way possible. You must have given him a look because he coughs in awkward embarrassment, “I know that this is a bad time, but please consider selling the shop.”

“Look, we already had this conversation and the answer is still no.” You sigh trying to walk around Alex only for him to follow you.

“You’re not making ends meet with the business, so why not cut your losses?” He tries to explain walking you to your car. You just got the door open for him to grab it not allowing you to properly close it. “This-this funeral… it’s not cheap, is it?” You glare up at him. The money flow slowed bit during this time, Alex knew about the shop barely earning enough to feed you and your grandmother. When you didn’t move Alex took it as a sign to continue, “Why not sell it and I’ll pay for all of it? I’ll let you go through the stuff in the shop to sell, donate, whatever you want with it.”

You hated the fact that he was right on everything. You hated that your hands were tied when it came to money. You growled resting your forehead on your hand leaning on your car door. Yep, stress was finally beating your ass. You finally look to Alex, “Fine.”

True to his word, Alex allows you to try to sell whatever is in the shop. You unlock the door after two days of grieving your grandmother. A small ding echoes into the empty building the scent of old books greets you like warm pleasant kisses. At the glass counter where most of the jewelry was sold stands a little plush chair. You slowly make your way tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Your grandma would sit there ready to greet anyone who entered. You take a deep breath through your nose and exhale out by mouth. “Okay, let’s do this.” You try to motivate yourself setting up a sign with bold red letters reading ‘Liquidation Sale! Everything must go!’. You take a seat where your grandma had once sat, waiting for customers.

Much to your horror, no one came. No passersby, no curious hipsters from the college, nobody! You groan smacking your head to the counter causing the old-fashioned cash register to ching in protest. Turning your head to the side, you allow the cool glass to soothe your growing headache. The sun barely begins to set behind the woods in front of the store, it was nearly closing time. You decide to flip the sign anyway, this will give you time to see if there was anything you wanted for yourself.

It wasn’t until now did you realize that most of this place contains books. Some things are New Age/Witch type of supplies then the actual antiques. You pluck a basket from the doorway to place anything you found fancy in. You begin to go through the store like you never been in it before. An amethyst skull is snatched off a shelf, you always had this attachment to it. A rose quartz sphere in a gold branch holder dangles at the window, that you place into the basket. Some sage found its way into your hands, along with a tea book and herb guide. You feel like you have enough to your collection until a glimmer shine from the very back.

You always avoided this part of the store, mainly from the eerie vibe you felt. These books your granny told you to stay away from for they contained secrets not meant for eyes like yours. You assumed she was being superstitious, or delusional, but you humored her. Walking up to the forbidden bookcase, you find what it is. A gold tome that seemingly covered in silk. You trace a finger down the spine feeling the softness. Pulling out the book allows a black octagram to come into view, you’ve never seen this kind of star before. You open it to become even more confused, the writing appears to be Arabic although a bit different. You sigh in relief as English text is at the bottom of each page. Casually flipping the pages, you notice diagrams and visuals of Arab men with monsters. You stop at one page that read out in deep bold, ‘Summon a Djinn’. Something in your chest tells you to shut this book and never look at it again. A stronger voice, one you know sounds like Starscream from Transformers: Prime, urges you to see what happens. It’s not real, how could it be?  


Without much thought, you close the book, place it in your basket, and close shop. You don’t know how fast you walked home, but you manage to get into your bedroom in record time. Changing into more comfortable clothes, a loose shirt and booty shorts, before flopping down on your bed. You read the summoning ritual, taking note of the things you need. “Holy crap!” You laugh looking at the list, “All of this is in Grandma’s room!” You hop up crossing the hallway to your destination.

You stop short from entering, you feel like you were trespassing. With a deep breath, you enter the room. Fresh tears spring to your eyes taking in the smell of perfume and baby powder. Making quick work of your grandmother’s fine drawers on the opposite wall from the door, you don’t want to be in there more than you must. You turn to survey the rest of the room; your grandma had some classy tastes. The living space is exactly like a bedroom set in a 1950s film. A large vanity with a round mirror across a queen-sized bed that took center of the wall. All the furniture is a dark brown expensive wood, no clutter or mess. A fine oak box sits on one of two nightstands close to the window, runes covered the edges in fine detail. You spy the Tree of Life on the cover with three women accompanying it. You slide the lid off finding many ritual items inside, herbs, incense, colored candles, and one silver mirror. You only gather the ones you need for your little séance, a few wicks and the reflective glass. You rush out of the room, guilt heavy in your chest for going through your grandmother’s belongings.

You calm down once you get back to your room, you want to see if this will work. The setup is easy, you web browse online for pronunciations of the spell. One thing has a minor setback, the spell will work only if you have the will for it. Will? This thing seriously is asking for you to have the willpower to summon this thing. What, is a djinn some all powerful being that only certain people can summon? You feel a bit miffed at the situation, you have a goal which your curiosity will not allow you to back down! You want to wish your grandma back! “This won’t stop me.” You proclaim to the ceiling, as if some higher being is listening, “I’m going to have a djinn in my room.”

The ritual begins, you follow all the instructions. You grow more confident as you progress along the steps. Finally, the decisive moment, the summon. You need place an object within the circle you drew, a djinn needs to be bound to something. Taking some inspiration from King Solomon, you decide to use your ring. A milky white glass jewel bulges out the center of a silver band engraved in vines. It was supposed to be a moon stone, but it turned out to be fake.

“Please. I need this to work.” You whisper kissing the ring for luck setting down your binding object into position. You recite the invocation feeling a heavy air press down on your shoulders. You start to get sick, your stomach churning as if you had food poisoning. You swallow down the bile that threatens to come up as you push forward. The walls of your room begin to writhe in some unknown energy, you bite your inner cheek at the sight before you. This emotion that washes over you, instincts telling you to stop and run. Fear. You steel your nerves, you continue even as bodies sprout out trying to grab you. Is this the test of will? Are these djinns? As you shout the last line of the spell over the wailing of the bodies, other voices join you. Deep demonic words in perfect timing to your own melodic ones.

A roar tears through the room just as the spell ends forcing you to cover your ears in shock. You gawk in terror as you witness a person fling out of your mirror. They land with a loud crash scattering the ritual items about the floor. The mirror from Grandma’s room wasn’t enough for this ritual apparently. Laughter fills the room, multiple demons cackle at the sight before the walls contort back to how they once were. All grows quiet save for your ragged breath. You couldn’t take your gaze from the being lying on the floor. Oh god, is it dead? Slowly you tiptoe to what you assume to be a djinn.

“Hello?” You softly call out getting ever so much closer, “Are you alive?” You bend reaching out to touch it. The djinn has hard patches of gnarly skin where its shoulder blades should be. You grimace at the sight of its spine sticking out. Large spikes curve upwards towards the heavens on its shoulders, smaller spikes trail down the back of its forearms. Horns curve from the crown of its head towards the front, the part you cannot get a view of. Greenish grey skin with a thin layer of slime looks like the safest part you can touch. Before you could even graze the djinn, a low groan comes from it. From the sound you hear, this being is male. He stirs from his place on the floor before stopping abruptly.

You gulp down the lump that formed at the back of your throat. You lean in closer to poke him. The djinn whips his head towards you hissing wildly barring wickedly sharp teeth. You yelp jumping back allowing him to zip pass you at speeds that shouldn’t be possible for someone his size. A slam alerts you of your summoned djinn locking himself in your bathroom. What the fuck you think noticing a red light from the cracks of the door. You barely hear a strange language being spoken by two different voices. A shout later the door flies open revealing the djinn. A massive muscular body adorned in markings and scars. Crimson irises glare at you with yellow blooming around his pupils. South of his hips a tribal cloth covers his lower half, that too is red lined in gold. Grey legs with similar markings end with black clawed feet. Nothing too abnormal about them, just the fact that they look like they can easily take the skin off you.

He notices you staring at his legs causing him to use his loin cloth to try to cover them. It’s like he isn’t used to having his legs out in the open. “You summoned me.” His voice booms in disgust. As if the thought of you is sickening. “Without the opal.”

“Huh?” You blink up at him, “What are you talking about? I just-“

“I know what you did!” The djinn cuts you off stalking towards you, in retaliation you step back to each one he took. His shoulders square to loom over you as if he’s going to strangle you in a second. “But how? No one in this era would be even remotely powerful enough to summon me!” This djinn got angrier by the word, “You’re just a- “He snaps his head to the book you abandoned on the floor. “No.”

You watch as the djinn picks up the old tome. He studies the cover tracing the star with his claws that are in place of the tips of his fingers. He opens it up, shock blooms on his face. With each page he flips, the growl he emitted grows louder. Soon enough his bares his jagged double pointed teeth until he throws the book to the four-post bed.

Where did you get that book?” The djinn demands rounding back to you. His rage scaring you to the point of regretting messing around with the book.

“My-my grandmother’s antique shop!” You squeak when your summon grabs you at the shoulders in his vice grip. “I wanted to know if it was real!”

“Oh, I’m very real, my dear.” The djinn chuckles menacingly black lips twists in a cruel smirk. “Now that you know. Put. Me. Back.” He growls into your face. His breath has the stench of a body pit, his claws just barely pierce your skin, heat radiating off his body like an overpowered furnace. Next thing, you find yourself on the ground! The motherfucker pushed you! And on something hard, you land on your ring that you used for the ritual. “I’m going to make this the worst decision you have even made.” The djinn snarls yanking your belt from the coat rack you have hanging on your closet door. “Maybe even you last, depending on you, of course.”

“Hey! You’re my djinn! And I’m your master!” You stand holding up your ring. The once white jewel had turned blood red sometime during the summoning, you guess. You slide the ring on your finger as the demon in front of you laughs.

“You? My master?” He wipes a tear from his eye. He cracks his neck with a devilish smile, “I’ll have you begging in a minute.”

He stalks towards you in long strides claws going straight for your collarbone. You hold out your enclosed fist that wears the binding ring. Bracing yourself you shout, “Stop!” You expect searing pain at any moment, but it never comes. You crack your eyes open to find that your djinn froze in place with his hand ready to strike. He slightly vibrates, struggling to get out of his trance. “It worked!”

“What… did… you… do… to…me?” The djinn grits out through his teeth. His eyes are darting around the room looking to find any entrapment sigil. “Release… me!”

You rotate your hand to admire the ring you have on, “Are you going to behave?” You ask in a sickly-sweet tone. A smile graces your lips as your demon struggles more. You circle him taking in his body, “Aside from looks, your body isn’t half bad!” A surprised erk! comes from the djinn when you grasp his loincloth. The fabric is as smooth as the book if not grittier from wherever he came from. You catch a glimpse as his ass, you smooth down the cloth feeling guilty. You get to the front of him, “What do you say? Truce?”

A growl escapes his lips weighing his options, be your demonic slave or be stuck like a fleshy statue forever? He sighs through his nose, “Fine.”

“You may move.” You balance on the balls of your feet gaining a few inches of height. The djinn flinches back into moving correctly. He eyes you carefully taking a curved horn into his hand stroking it like a security blanket. Huh, a demon with insecurities, who knew? “Wanna talk this over tea?”


	2. New Set of Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get to learn a bit more about your situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me if this all makes sense, I am up for criticism!

You had watched the djinn mess with your stuff from the safety of your kitchen. Your demon seemed to be uncomfortable during this time, and you wagered it wasn’t the loincloth. He stopped playing with it a while back having settled on his horn. You weren’t so sure if you should do something, tell him… wait, what is his name?  You asked for his name, he spoke in a dead language that sounds like grunts, growling, and hacks… So, it’s going to be like that?

 

This happened about an hour ago, you finished the tea having gathered everything to go with it. Milk, sugar cubes your grandmother had, she had taught you how to serve tea to guests a long time ago and was not afraid to do pop quizzes on you. You sit at your table across from your djinn, who at this point hadn’t stopped glaring. He hasn’t touched his tea that you made for him opting out on eating the sugar cubes. Of course, he went through your fruit and other food items you had laying about your house first. Barely ripe, at the peak of perfection, or rotting.

 

“So, your name is something I can’t pronounce.” You take a sip of your tea. The djinn in front of you just idly crunches on a cube, a bored expression on his face. Oh, boy. This could be harder than expected. “Do you have a nickname?”

 

“I am now your property.” The djinn grumbles sinking lower into his seat. The word ‘property’ doesn’t sit well with you. It was like this djinn is your slave or pet. You squirm in your seat taking the cup of tea in your hands. Your demon continues, “You can name me anything you want at this point.”

 

“That’s very unsettling.” You murmur before looking around for any signs for a name. You get a glimpse of the bookcase near the stairs, there’s all sorts of old books inside of it. “How about I look for a name while you tell me more about our situation?” You quickly bound to the shelves taking out a few books you knew to be of Middle Eastern origin. You want his new name to show where your demon came from, it didn’t seem right to just call him Bob.

 

“What is there to explain?” The djinn scoffs never taking his fiery eyes off you. He couldn’t help but notice your nice shapely ass in your tiny shorts. Each jiggle, very curve memorized before you turn around with an armful of literature. Being sealed away for so long had the djinn frustrated in other ways he would rather deal with another time.  “You summoned me. You get to ask of whatever you wish of me until you decide otherwise.”

 

“But the book said I get three wishes if I woke you, right?” You ask setting your collection on the table carefully opening them to random pages for inspiration. You peer up at the djinn feeling the air change from pleasant to stuffy in seconds. You realize that he is staring at you lower than you know where your eyes should be. Your shirt rim slopes enough to display your valley plus how you hang without your bra not giving away all the goods completely. You snap yourself to standing up straight much to the disappointment of your demon. “And there's some weird warning.” You cough sitting back down in your seat.

 

“Yes, but you didn’t ‘wake’ me. You summoned me.” The djinn finally takes a mouthful of the tea you made feeling the same anxiousness you are. He avoids making any eye contact by sitting in the most improper way possible, arm over the back of the chair making him face the wall. You write down a few names that stick out to you. This is surprisingly easy!

 

“What’s the difference?”

 

“We djinn are bound to objects mainly. Stereotypical oil lamps, vases, jewels.” He explains swirls his tea in his clawed hand taking some moments to glance at you. You hum to acknowledge that you are still listening as you research. “If some human wakes one of us, then this Waker is granted three wishes. Think of it as a thank you before we take over your world.”

 

You choke on your tea. The coughing fit that came burns the back of your throat, “Wait. Take over? That part is true?”

 

“We enslave the human race and claim the Earth as ours.” The djinn smiles baring his sharp teeth. The thought had to be blissful to him, it’s like he’s daydreaming of the hostile takeover as the ultimate highlife. Murder, chaos, mayhem… the best thing ever! However, he snaps himself back to reality regaining his disdain, “But, you pulled me out of the dimension between worlds. You proved that you didn’t need an object connecting us here. That, we djinn consider impressive. Thus, your reward is…”

 

“A djinn of my own.” You finish tearing your line of sight from your list to the djinn. His scornful expression you met with had returned, even more burning with contempt than ever. “This must mean that I can wish for whatever I want without worrying about you taking over the world.”

 

“If you want to think of it that way.” The djinn harshly places his mug on the table. His lips curl into a sneer upon viewing the ring on your finger, “That ring is what you bound me to. You have control over me through it, any demand you make I must fulfill.” He downs the rest of his tea. He peers into the cup at the leaves left behind. A cloud, he thinks sullenly, serious troubles. Well, no shit! He’s in one now! Lines, a lot of lines pointing to his summoner. A journey, but why you? A soft growl rumbles in his chest, apparently you were meant to be in his life. The bond between the two of you hasn’t connected, you don’t know about the binding spell. If you proclaim him as yours, the demon cannot break free of your magic grasp. Please, the djinn for once praying to some unknown force on his side, don’t have you complete the ritual.

 

The djinn gets to his feet circling the table to your end. You immediately think that he’s going to try to kill you again. You clench your ringed fist expecting the worst. The djinn sees this, he stops for a second before stepping closer until he is in front of you. He towers over you, your head barely reaching up to his stomach. The stench of sulfur attacks your nose nearly forcing you to recoil from him. He reaches out taking the list you had made to read. You sigh in relief lowering your ring a bit, still ready to defend yourself if needed.

 

A deep terrifying laugh escapes your djinn chilling you to your core. “Really? Mohammed? Come now, be reasonable.” The djinn chuckles at your naivety causing you to blush. “I’m surprised you didn’t put Aladdin or Abdul.”

 

“Hey!” You bark. This guy thought you would go with some demeaning name that people from the fifties would use! “I wanted to be more than that!” You snatch the list from the djinn going through it. You type in a name on your phone to check the meaning. A question popped into your head, you had to know before you forget. “Hey, why did the spell pick you?”

 

An irritated sigh came from the demon, claws pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s usually done by casting out anyone that is deemed unsuitable or luck of the draw. The Council will choose when they receive magics by the spell. I happen to be passing by when the Council obtained the power of your invocation.”

 

The Council? You think to yourself, these djinn have a society structural system? That’s more questions you have for your demon. For now, you want to find a name for this djinn without butchering a language that may be no longer in use. A triumphant laugh got you on your feet. You beam up at him with a pleased smile, “I have a new name for you!” You write down the name in question in large letters. You proudly present it like a sign at a sporting event. Your djinn takes the piece of paper from your fingers ignoring your glowing attitude.

 

“Tavarius?” The djinn deadpans looking up at you hoping that this had to be some form of joke. “One with no luck?”

 

“Fits doesn’t it?” You ask knowing exactly what you were doing, so did he by the looks of it as he bobs his head silently giving a ‘Fair enough’. You hold up your ring, it’s shine gaining his attention. “Your name is Tavarius in my care.”

 

“Stop- “, The demon tries to interfere as the red light of the ring grows. You are completing the binding spell, he figured that you would be too stupid to finish it, then he could still escape to find one of his sealed brothers. The djinn’s body begins to tingle with painful static as if circulation is being cut off. He winces as the sensation reaches his lower body.

 

“I need some help around the house now that grandma’s gone.” You continue not seeing the same event your demon is witnessing. “I think you should be a maid of sorts. Like a demonic butler!”

 

Tavarius nearly doubles in pain as the conditions are finally being made. By the Nine, you were going to finish that damn spell without realizing it! He growls the slime on his body sliding down his abdomen in distress. A burn settles in his joints, a dry grinding feeling makes it hard to move them. This is it… He’s going to die here. Some lowlife human is going to ruin him for the rest of all eternity, all because his brothers saw it fit to sacrifice him. Did he not follow orders? Did he not turn angel wings to dust for his brothers? Tempt beautiful virgins into the delicious sin of lust? Plant the seeds of pride within holy men? Why would they give him up to you? Because you did the impossible? You went beyond the invisible for kicks because of your damn curiosity?

 

“Tavarius, you shall be my maid.” You conclude not taking notice of the demon before you so close to collapse. “Cook, clean, fulfill my needs if I so choose.” You nod as a final statement cutting off the light the ring gave. Tavarius falls to his knees, his breath ragged as the pressure relieves itself. Slime dripping off his muscled body like sweat. You gasp at the sudden action, “Are you okay?”

 

“You…” Tavarius pants wobbly trying to gain his bearing no longer an apparent threat. He begins to spit curses, or at least you assume they are, in a language you heard before. Some of the structures of his sentences are familiar to you, but you figured you’ll figure it out later. After his tirade, he leans on your lower body clearly spent on energy. “Why me?”

 

“I ask myself that daily.” You try to spare him a kind smile. Tavarius is not amused, he carefully stands before you, leaning on the table for support. You frown at his behavior, it was like he’s going through some pain, “Are you sure you’re okay?” You dare to gingerly touch his pecs trying to ignore the slime.

 

“I’m fine.” Tavarius growls at you stretching to full height, slightly bending his back as if to crack it. He sides glances at you. “A maid? Really?”

 

“I honestly didn’t know what else to ask for, other than bring my grandma back from the dead?” You laugh nervously hoping that he could pull off such a wish. That way, Tavarius could go back to his realm and you didn’t have to explain to anyone where he came from, especially your grandma.

 

“You want your grandmother back?” The demon asks to clarify what he just heard. You nod with a meek vigor. “From the dead?” You bob your head not quite liking his change of tone. He seems to be taken aback a bit as if to say, ‘Did you really summon him here for that? Was that your true motive?’ He sighs, “I cannot grant your wish.”

 

“What? Why?” You blanch at him. He was supposed to grant your every wish, what’s the deal with reviving an old lady! “Don’t tell me you have Disney restrictions!” You joke placing your hands on your hips. Due to his uncharacteristic silence, you drop your hands. “You can’t be serious!”

 

“This goes back to the whole ‘Waking verses Summoning’ thing.” Tavarius says stealing your tea for himself. You open your mouth to protest as he refills it, “If you woke me, I would have happily granted your wish. I would have the power to bend the natural laws, but only able to use such power to grant a wish. As it may, you summoned me, I can use my abilities with wild abandon.” As proof, Tavarius snaps his fingers to place back all the books you had on the table on the shelves. You gasp at what just happened, you were not ready to witness actual magic in action. “With a price. I am not powerful enough to break any laws set by the natural order. No messing with free will, Death, Nature, and what has been set by an astral being.”

 

“So, it’s all like equivalent exchange?” You ask taking your cup back before Tavarius could take a swig. He glowers at you as you chug down the tea, you gasp for breath, “In exchange for cosmic power, you have limited access to it. In exchange for unlimited access to said power, it’s not cosmic, you have to follow the natural order of magic.” Tavarius bows his head gesturing with his hands in a Ta Da motion. You set your cup on the table finally understanding the weight of the situation. “It makes sense."

 

“Sure.” Tavarius smirks taking your cup. He holds out his free hand towards the other end of the table willing his cup to fly into his waiting grasp. Your shocked expression causing him to chuckle, “I guess I’ll start my ‘duties’. Since this is what you want of me.”

 

“Hold on. You need a room.” You think aloud knowing full well that the only other room is your grandmother’s. With a sigh, you rub your cheek knowing there’s no choice now. You were going to wait until you sold the shop to go through your grandma’s things. “Well, we’ll setup the room tomorrow. I’ll grab some stuff for you to sleep on the floor.”

 

You retreat upstairs to the linen closet. Tavarius watches you trot up the steps before peeking at your tea leaves. An anchor, you will find a steady love life. How cute. What terrifies him are the lines pointing directly at him. This better not be what he thinks it means. Tavarius spies a knot on one of the lines, more than likely a rut in the road. So, the Fates did have a plan for the two of you. A journey of sorts, but to what? Tavarius hoped it wasn’t towards the anchor, he cannot deal with another one. As a final act of defiance, he used his newly obtained power to heat the cups to the point of crushing them into fine dust. Be as it may, he will have this journey on his terms. Fates be damned.

 

 You can place Tavarius in the living room on the couch, but do you trust him enough to not run off? You pick through the sheets you collected over the years. Old wood reaches your nose as you pull the fabrics out of their hiding places. It has been a while since you had guests, especially ones that are staying forever. You finally find what you need before yanking out the inflatable mattress you bought a long time ago for a camping trip. You slap everything on your bed taking at pumping air into the crumpled plastic you had squished years before.

 

Tavarius took to searching your kitchen for any morsels he didn’t get to. Your layout is simple, to anyone born in this era. Shiny metal appliances littered the counter tops, which were all turned on by the demon’s aura. The blender roars to life shocking Tavarius enough to send it flying out the kitchen’s open window. Coffee from the brewer pours into an awaiting mug gaining his attention. Taking the cup in his claws, Tavarius purrs at the robust scent of the beverage. He takes a cautious sip, jolting at the heat for a second. The taste isn’t bad either! Then comes the massive silver square, handles stretched nearly the length of it. A simple tug wasn’t enough to get it open. Using an overly powerful yank the djinn swings the door open jostling the machine. A grin breaks out of his face as more food is revealed.

 

“Okay!” You shout triumphantly, out of breath from pumping up the mattress. You make your way down the stairs to find your demon to get him into bed. “I got the bed made!” You call out. You freeze as soon as you hear rummaging in your fridge. You slowly step closer to the kitchen deathly afraid of what you might stumble into. Sure enough, Tavarius had surrounded himself with empty containers on the floor from the once stocked fridge. “Why the fuck?”

 

“I have been,” Tavarius hiccups causing a pause in his excellent excuse, “Stuck in between worlds for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. I have been starved.”

 

“So you eat everything in the house?!” You question unbelieving that this guy would pack all that food without some form of injury. “How are you not exploding? Aren’t you sick?”

 

“That weird mold ridden thing might be it.” Tavarius half burps having given up trying to sit. You blink failing to find any common sense in what he just told you. “Don’t fret about this.”

 

“I’ll _fret_ about it tomorrow when I get home.” You sigh rubbing your temples to prevent a migraine. You still had your appointment with Alexander and you weren’t going to drag Tavarius with you. “Your temporary bed is made.”

 

After helping your overstuffed demon off your kitchen floor. You allowed Tavarius to enter the bedroom while you brushed your teeth among your other nightly routes. You couldn’t help but wonder what this could mean for you. You no longer must worry about money ever again. Now that you think about it, you may never need to leave your house. You step out of your bathroom about to ask when you realize that the inflatable mattress lays unused. You pan your gaze towards your bed to find Tavarius nice and comfortable snoring like an animal. He even stole the extra pillows from the blowup bed for his own use. Your demon lays sprawled out on the cushions like a goddamn prince of Persia. You so want to yell at him to get out of your bed, but the look on his face stopped you. Tavarius seems so peaceful now that he’s asleep, he appears to not have had a decent sleep in a long time. You sigh quietly, you’re going to let him have this one night. After that, he’s going to have to help you with your grandma’s stuff, so he can have his own room.

 

You realize that his loincloth is hitched over his thigh uncovering his groin. You quickly look away flinging your hand to help shield yourself the site. Morbid curiosity rears its’ ugly head, what does demon dick look like? You spread your fingers for a peek then close them back up. This is so wrong, you scold yourself, you barely met the guy and you want to get a look at his junk. Luckily, your Jiminy Cricket won this time. Tavarius is proving to be a terrible guest so far, there’s always tomorrow.

 

You lay yourself down hoping to get some sleep. Everything that has happened tonight is residing heavily on you. You are exhausted to the point that you feel as if you couldn’t possibly get the rest you need. Your eyes finally get strained, your eye lids droop no longer being able to stay open. A tingling sensation coats your body as if the blanket on you is made of static. You want to fight to get yourself up to investigate, but warmth spreads lulling you into a sense of security. Your body loosens any tension you gained, a powerful wave of calm claims you. Without realizing it, you fall asleep.


	3. The Other Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting with Alex, but is this man to be trusted?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested nudity in this part.

Red. All you could see is red. You dream of fire, a cursed burning that took hold in your chest. It is like a new emotion coursing through your body in stark hot waves. You could barely stand it; the intensity grows veining its way to the pits of your stomach. What is happening to you? This needs to stop! It must! It’s tearing your soul apart! You open your eyes to see a hand craving your chest open. You scream at the sight of your blood gushing at the person’s wrist. You trail your gaze towards the identity of the one attacking you. Black lips curl into a cruel smile, jagged teeth barely peeking out.

 

“Wake up.” A deep calm voice tells you. You struggle against your attacker, punching, scratching with all the energy you can muster. You chant ‘Let go!’ over and over hoping to break free of your hold.

 

“Wake up!” The voice sounds distant but familiar not like before. You continue to battle with the attacker who tore your rib cage open even more. Your heart finally bared to the open air, you let out a blood curdling shriek.

 

“WAKE UP!” You feel yourself being shaken by the shoulders forcing you awake. You gasp as your dream melts by the sunlight. You flinch at the sudden change of light. Your vision adjusts accordingly coming face to face with Tavarius. You jump back with a squeak, not used to his visage just yet. He lets go of you, “Nightmare?”

 

“I think so.” You mutter laying back on the slightly collapsed blowup bed. What was that about? Was it due to your new situation or stress? “God, that was scary.”

 

“Hold on.” Tavarius zips out of the room in a blur. He must have some form of super speed, you guess barely catching a glimpse of demonic aura. He blinks back into the room holding a piece of bread. “Here. Eat this.”

 

“Uh why? I thought you ate everything?” You question taking the bread regardless. It wasn’t the usual type you bought, but it still looked good. It is dark brown in color with a sweet yeasty aroma. You figure that it is Pumpernickel.

 

“You’re not fully back from the Dream Realm.” Tavarius explains kneeling on his knee resting his forearm on the other. “You were going to tell me what your dream was about, but I rather if you solidified yourself here first.” You gave him a confused expression taking a bite out of the bread. “If you told me what your dream was before you fully came back, the dream would have come true.” You practically shove the roll into your mouth after that bit of information.

 

Tavarius chuckles at your distress as you try to swallow the mass of mushy bread in haste. You swallow the best of your ability having to squeeze your eyes shut in effort. During this time, Tavarius took the liberty to fetch a glass of milk. Again, you couldn’t help but notice the difference in color. The milk isn’t white like what you buy, it is more actual cream colored and appears to be denser in consistency. Regardless, you take a healthy swig of it. The milk is so much sweeter than 2% at the supermarket.

 

“Thanks.” You breathe out trying to piece everything together. You stare hard at your legs trying to remember details. The dream slowly no longer fresh in your mind. It is starting to feel like a distant memory, one that still lingered at the back of your head. “I was gutted.”

 

“In your dream?” Tavarius asked tilting his head to get a look at your face. Maybe he also searching for any wounds you made to yourself. He didn’t know if his presence could gain unwanted attention from the netherworld. He could think of one, but they wouldn’t send after him. “What happened?”

 

You look up at Tavarius glancing at his mouth. Black lips and jagged teeth. You grimace at the memory shuddering lightly. You tell him what you can remember, you try to spare some details unless he asks. You finish your story noticing the time, it was 11 in the morning. You jump to your feet shouting a curse. Your appointment is at 10! You hastily wash your face ignoring Tavarius, who had been covered by your blanket in your mad dash.

 

 “Shit!” You dry yourself only to rub foundation on your face with a brush. “I totally forgot!” You gently line your eye with a black liner barely seeing Tavarius appear in the mirror behind you. Once again, he takes in the sight of your rump. “Cut it out!”

 

“Can I not appreciate the view?” Tavarius smirks leaning his forearm on the threshold. You grumble attending the other eye. “Why do you need to be presentable? Surely not on my behalf?”

 

“I have an appointment with Alex today.” You state simply picking out a deep shade of red. A friend of yours had jokingly said that it was the color of blood on you. You smoothly apply the matte stick on your fine lips, starting with the top to get that Cupid’s Bow. You notice Tavarius tracing his own lip with the tip of his strangely black tongue. Maybe it’s the trick of the light. You straighten yourself to turn to your demon, “I’m going to have to leave you here.”

“Oh, whatever shall I do?” Tavarius mocks despair batting his nonexistent lashes. He knew that he couldn’t really leave the house, not until he can get a hold of a new face. The demon watches you move around the room to find the appropriate clothes. He takes a sit on your bed very much ready for you to strip down.

 

You are about to pull your shirt over your head when you feel a warmth on you. It blooms on your back seeping towards your stomach in a lethargic slither causing a shiver to jolt down your spine. Just before the sensation travels southwards, you whip around to find Tavarius sitting expectedly in the lotus position. You glare at him, “Do you mind?”

 

“No.” Tavarius answers quickly in anticipation. You pull a look that got the hint across as the djinn on the bed blinks in understanding but chooses to lie on his side leaning on his hand. This jackass! You gather your clothes before stomping into the bathroom. An amused chuckle follows you until you close the door. Tavarius is proving to be more difficult than you had hoped. A hardy knock forces you out of your thoughts, “There’s a man outside.”

 

You blink at the statement, that was odd. You quickly put on your clothes, a nice black dress showing off your cleavage and curves. You step out to see Tavarius glaring out the window with a hard-set frown on his face. You go over to him to peek at he is staring at. The sight nearly made you knock your djinn to the ground with you as you duck. Alexander is right outside your house!

 

“Shit!” You curse scrambling to find your shoes, or at least the presentable slip-ons. However, you fail to notice Tavarius carving a seal onto your window with a metal claw. He would have to be sure no other mystical being can find him, or else his plan would be jeopardized. You quickly step into some Dollies you found a long time ago, nearly bumping into Tavarius.

“Tavvy!” You call about to leave the room getting a solid ‘no’ in response, which you ignored, “I need you to stay out of sight. Who knows what Alex will say if you showed your face.”

“Die of fright?” Tavarius smirks devilishly returning to lounge on your bed, “Go mad at the sight of me?”

“You really like the thought of this, don’t you?” You glare as you step out of the room, “Don’t have me catch you outside this room!” You threaten as your parting words to go answer the door. You quickly make your way through your house, nearly tripping on your steps during the rush. You answer the door with a bit of a pant.

“Good morning!” Alex greets taking notice of your disheveled state, “I hope I didn’t wake you up?” You step aside to let him into your house, now realizing that you had a mess from last night’s shenanigans. However, it wasn’t there. The kitchen is spotless as if a djinn didn’t just ransack it for pounds of food. Tavarius must have cleaned with his magic like he did with the books. “What a lovely home!”

“Thank you.” You blush leading him to the table, so you can discuss the shop. “Would you like some coffee, tea, water?”

“Coffee is fine.” Alex answers from his seat taking in the sights of the exotic furnishings you swear were not in your house before. Silks and satin cover most of your plush items such as your throw pillows and drapes. Different colors adorn parts of the walls and other stand-alone pieces. Your house is turning into an Arabian palace.

You grumble to your self to have a talk to Tavarius about changing your house without permission. The sound of the water system catches your attention as the house groans from the pipes being used. Was Tavarius running the shower? Does he even know how to use it?

“Did you leave the water running?” Alex asks as a concerned person would.

“No, not that I know of.” You set the coffee pot on the table with the mugs and dressings. You mentally slap yourself at your answer. This would mean that Alex would assume that there was someone else in your house.

“Is there someone staying with you?” There it is. You panic a little trying to think of an excuse. You couldn’t just say, ‘I summoned an Arabian demon to bring Grandma back to life and now I’m stuck with him’ to Alex. “A relative of yours?”

“A friend of my grandmother’s.” You spit out giving your guest his coffee. “He just came in from…” You couldn’t remember where ancient Persia was, “Saudi Arabia.” You inwardly sighed in relief as you hear the water stop running. “He’s very jet-lagged so I doubt we’ll see him.”

“That’s a shame.” Alex sips his coffee after adding his sugar and cream. You somehow didn’t feel right around Alex, there is this aura that radiated off him much like Tavarius’s. “So, I hate to go straight into business.”

“No.” You smile taking your seat across from Alex, “I understand. It’s like a Band-Aid, right?”

Alex smiles in return taking out a folder starting off on legal ramifications of the shop. You tune out your guest, you just want to get this over with and not have to deal with the shop ever again. You took a glance at the papers Alex has been reading from, you swear you saw doodles instead of writing. You shake the feeling of unease that took hold. Maybe this was a bad idea? You feel like something was telling you to rethink the arrangement.

“I just need you to sign this.” Alex presents a form. You nearly grimace at the paper before you. The sickening pit returns tenfold causing a chain reaction in your stomach. You bolt from your seat to race towards the guest restroom. You barely hover your head over the seat when your mouth spills with your stomach contents. Over your wrenching you hear Alex call out.

“(Y/N)! Are you alright?” He sounds distressed you think in between mouthfuls of bile. “You’re sick. Maybe we should continue this when you’re better.” You peek up at your guest, his fair features glum with worry. He steps into the bathroom with you, “I should get you to bed.”

“I’m okay.” You gasp out specks of tears burn at your eyes as you rest your head in your hands. “I’m okay. I appreciate the offer, Alex. But I got this.” You still had to protect your little demonic secret, no matter how useful the offer is.

Alex steps out with a small smile, “I’ll see myself out. Get better, okay?” You smile back as Alex leaves you. You wait until you hear the door close when you finally get up. You clean up your mess, luckily it wasn’t much. You trek your way up the stairs noticing steam on the top floor.

You slowly walk down the hallway to your room. As you get closer, the steam gets thicker. You stand outside your door; swirling vapor escapes the cracks outlining it. You gently open it allowing a wall of hot air to fan your face. It is a sauna in here!

“Tavvy?” You call wafting the steam to gain a better view. The door to your bathroom is wide open causing the water vapor to pour out.

“Don’t call me that.” You hear Tavarius’s response. You take long strides to confront the djinn on what was going on when you find him. Tavarius is lounging in your tub, purring as he soaks in how looks like boiling grime. Dirt colors the water a murky grayish brown, you can only imagine where it came from. His legs are apart so that his body can be emerged, “Go away, I’m busy.”

“So, you couldn’t keep yourself quiet?” You ask tiredly leaning on the threshold. You feel as if the very reason you haven’t passed out is due to sheer will and frustration. You groan a bit rubbing your face feeling the sweat.

“What happened to you?” Tavarius asks opening a red eye at you. “You look like you’re melting.”

“Thanks.” You say in annoyance grabbing your makeup wipes to get the foundation and lipstick off. The steam is making it run off and cake on your skin, one of the worst feelings in the world. You hear the shushing of water at your side making you dare look out of your peripheral vision. Tavarius stands fully allowing the water to course down his muscular body. His skin no longer has this dull dustiness to it, but now a vivid light green. You feel your eyes drip down pass his waistline, but you immediately look forward at your reflection. Tavarius steps into your line of sight in the mirror, this time you get to admire the intricate ritualistic patterns on his chest and forearms. Due to the how the droplets roll off them, the swirls are scars much like how some tribes use scarification in their culture.

You trail up to his collar bone to gaunt like face. Two parallel scars cut along the ridge of his cheeks, you use them to find his red eyes glimmering fiendishly at you. You squeak realizing that Tavarius has caught you staring at him. Heat rises within your ears trying to find a perfect excuse for your actions.

“And you have the nerve,” Tavarius chuckles placing a clawed hand on his hip, “To stop me from admiring your visage.” You glower at him refusing to feed into his ego. He continues, “Did your guest not please you enough?”

“Classy, Tav.” You mutter rubbing furiously at your lipstick. “It’s just business.” You turn to face him, trying so hard not to look down. “It was about my grandma’s shop. He wants to buy it.”

“And why is that?” Tavarius crosses his arms still having that sly smug smirk. He knows your inner dilemma, he wants to see you break your eye contact with him.

“Why do I need to know?” You question back mirroring his stance making it easier to keep your stare on his. “Maybe he wants to tear it down and build a shopping center?”

“He wants something in it.” The djinn states a serious tone replaces his teasing. You blink up at him, how can he possibly know that? He hasn’t even met the guy and Tavarius is making assumptions. “There’s something off about him, and you know it. You felt it too.”

Now you’re even more curious and scared at the same time. “So, you felt it?” A nod confirms your question. You avert your gaze to the tiled floor, was your body reacting to Alex because of this unknown factor? “What is it?”

“Either he’s dabbling in something.” Tavarius explains once again that graceful pride is back. “Or he’s not human.” The answer has your head to snap up. The expression on Tavarius’s face doesn’t give away any lies. You gulp not sure if feeling more idiotic for trusting the man you've known for a few months or your recently summoned djinn. “Would you like me to deal with this?”

You step back unsure what exactly this could mean. “What?” You know that the djinn can be malicious, some can even cause grievous harm on their own accord. If Tavarius is the type of djinn warned about in the old tales, then you could be in serious trouble.

“I can do whatever you wish of me. I can settle this affair of yours if you want it.”

You stare at Tavarius’s stomach in thought. How would he deal with Alex? Would your demon kill him? Could you live with that fact? Maybe you can word it to where Tavarius wouldn’t kill Alex. You sigh bringing yourself back to the conversation and remembering that your djinn is still stark naked. You cover your eyes attempting to appear that you are pinching your nose.

Conversing with Tavarius like this felt too natural, like the two of you were comfortable enough on a level far beyond that of master and slave. You’re going to have to test your limits with Tavarius, see what can and cannot be done with his magics. Thus, the problem rings back into your mind. What to do with Alex?

“Yes. I want you to deal with it.”


	4. Goodbye, Beautiful Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally a death in the story! And new found power!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor character death in this chapter and not a lot of gore but enough. Very short chapter.

Night fell just as quickly as it faded into dawn. The small town grows still as the chilled air blows in. Alex steps out of his car in front of the shop. He didn’t want to resort to this, but since that pitiful owner isn’t playing ball. Alex pulls out a pick lock kit from his coat pocket casually glancing around for anyone watching. He makes quick work of the door, easily opening the heavy oak. Once inside, Alex takes a deep inhale through his nose enjoying the smell of herbs and old books.

Books. Alex starts to go through the nearest shelf, reading titles trying to find the one. He grows impatient by the second wall of text. He knows the old bat had them, they must be in this shop! The man growls throwing a book an Enochian magic in frustration. Why are there so many books in this place?

A creak of the floor boards snaps Alex into alert. He stands still straining to listen for another noise. A rustle of paper causing him to whip around. A gentle chime of wind makers spins Alex around. A cold sweat break on his forehead, “Who’s there?”

No answer. Alex blindly scrambles for a weapon on a table recovering a drum stick. His dark hair clings to his face as he walks slowly towards the back of the shop. The moisture escaping his pores making his beard itchy. A groan from the old shop gets Alex to jump in fright. Maybe the old woman used one of the books?

A glimmer catches Alex’s attention. A purple shimmer sparkles in the little moonlight shining through a window. A grin spreads on Alex’s face. He practically runs to the back shelf to find what he has been looking for. A finger pulls out a black leather book with an ancient crest on the side. A devil’s mark is engraved on the cover signifying that this is indeed the right book.

“I found you.” A deep voice catches Alex off guard as those were the words he was going to say. He turns to find a shadowy figure opposite him, the moonlight blacking out the other’s appearance. “I wondered what you were after.”

“Who are you?” Alex demands holding out the drum stick he grabbed before. A menacing laugh booms from the other person taking a step forward. “S-stay back!” Alex backs up bumping into the shelf. Tavarius’s frightful features are lightened by the moon, crimson eyes shining like rubies. Black lips part in a devilish grin showing jagged teeth. Alex stutters, “By the nine!”

“That’s something I wasn’t expecting to hear.” The djinn says before using his speed to snatch the intruder by the neck. He lifts the man up just two inches off the ground. The shock causes Alex to drop the book to try to free himself of the demon’s hold. “I need a new face. And I’m sure no one will miss you.”

Tavarius hums placing an index finger on his chin in thought as if he were to decide on what he should do. He smiles sweetly as he traces his claw around Alex’s face, cutting enough for the skin to detach from muscle. Alex screams in pain as the djinn begins to filet his flesh. Tavarius chuckles in mirth as the man’s suffering intensifies. The delicate skin peels off like a ripe orange revealing red tissue. Tavarius drops Alex to gently fan the face out. Alex whines on the ground spitting out blood that got in his mouth.

“Perfect.” The djinn muses turning his gaze to Alex. He spots the book from where it fell and picks it up. Another human with a powerful book. Tavarius kneels down to the sobbing man, “A grimoire? Now, why would a man of your standing want something like this?”

“I-I don’t have to tell you anything, _djinn_.” Alex hisses bleeding out on the old wood floor. Every twitch his exposed face makes sends a shock of hot pain.

“You know of me!” Tavarius smiles fully eyes shining being impressed by Alex, “I am deeply honored.” He bows his head in respect, “However, I have been tasked to get rid of loose ends.”

The terrified look on Alex’s face messes in a grimace of discomfort as shock sets in. “Don’t tell me. She couldn’t have!”

“She did, unfortunately.” Claws scrape at Alex’s throat at the right artery, “How about a deal? You tell me anything you know about the opal and I’ll let you live.” Alex pants through his nose using enough energy to hold up his middle finger. “Pity.” More shrieks tear through the night as the djinn indulges in his more sadistic side.

You sit in bed under the covers reading the book you used to summon Tavarius. Dream wondering, astral projection, using your djinn as a battery for more powerful spells, you could rule the world if you had the guts to. You snuggle into your sheets as your nightie isn’t keep you warm enough. You hear your front door open, you guess it must be Tavarius. You wait until he arrives into your room to tell him that he’s sleeping on the floor tonight. You look from your book as the door opens, you jump out of bed in shock.

“Alex!”

“No. Try again.” A familiar voice you know comes out of a body you know doesn’t make.

“Tavarius?” You blink. The smirk says it all, you sigh then you snap, “What the hell? What happened? Why do you look like him?”

“Long story short.” Tavarius takes off his bloody shirt, which you now realize, “I took care of your problem and got a new face in the process.”

“You killed him.”

“I had to.”

“Why?!”

“He broke into your shop for this.” He held out the black book. The one that gave you goosebumps by just looking at it. “Do you know what this is?”

“A book?”

“A grimoire, stupid girl.” Tavarius growls tossing it on your bed with the other book. “A powerful one. Alex wanted it and he knew what I am.”

“I can’t believe that jerk!” You cry swiping the grimoire. You hastily flip through the pages catching glimpses of diagrams and demons with people in the middle ages. “He was using me! All he could have done was ask and- wait, he knew what you are?”

Tavarius glowers at you, probably judging you a bit for your rash of thinking. “Yes, he knows of us djinn. And I have this.” He fishes out a wallet, no doubt Alex’s. You take it from him opening it up to reveal more hard truths. Alex wasn’t even his real name, Lawrence Abaza was the one trying to get the shop. You find about five hundred dollars in cash, a round trip plane ticket, and a coin. Once that has a demon’s head with its tongue out in the middle of it. You sit on your bed taking it all in. What could this mean?

“Is there more?” You ask shakily staring nervously at the photo ID. Tavarius tilts his head narrowing his eyes in confusion, you continue, “Are there more grimoires in my granny’s possession?”       

 


	5. Information Dump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get to see more of what your grandmother is hiding and set up some ground rules, especially now that Tavarius has a human face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally what the title says, this chapter is info dump. I'll get to the meat of the story soon I promise!

Granny had always been so warm, inviting, just an overall kind person. A run of the mill old lady who lived in a small town. There were the odd complains of her being strange, maybe even a witch, but these accusations came from kids whose imaginations got away from them. Now that you stand at the foot of your bed with a pile of books holding unknown content in their pages, you’re starting to wonder if maybe the kids were right.

You had Tavarius gather all the grimoires in the shop. You were expecting maybe about three or four, your djinn came back with fifteen. From what you can tell by the different covers, these books came from all over the world. A Nordic grimoire decorated in lively greens and gold. A vibrant red cover engraved in feathered wings. They were all pretty in their own way, but some just gave you that same chest crushing feeling from before.

“And all these,” You turned to face Tavarius who had been sitting in your computer chair by your desk. Seeing Alex’s face in such a bored uninterested stare rather than the friendly smile you were used to. Then again, Alex proved himself to be a not so nice guy and had an interior motive.Hell, Alex wasn't even his real name or a blonde! You had to get used to it since it’s now Tavarius’s mug.

“The only ones.” Came the reply you were hoping for. You opened one up almost immediately regretted it as you gaze upon an arcane picture of a naked couple having sex while a, what you guess is a depiction of Pan, watches. You close the book with a hardy thump before tossing it back to the pile. “Find something not to your tastes?”

The smugness in your djinn’s voice is getting on your nerves. It’s like he wants you to be miserable. Then again, you can understand why. You decide to ignore Tavarius for now, you can tell that this also pisses him off. The air in the room grew into a dry heat sucking all the moisture out. A low growl is heard from him as you turn your back on him. You gather up the grimoires having a bit of difficulty taking them to your personal shelf. You place the books appropriately leaving one in your arms, the one that Alex wanted so badly. The black leather worn down to a well-used softness, the vigil on the cover gives away what exactly the material is inside.

“It’s a knock off.” Tavarius’s rich voice pulls you out of your trance.

“What?”

The roll of eyes greets you when you focus in on him. “It’s not the real one.”

“Real one of what? Stop speaking in riddles. I demand it!”

That got him to straighten up, the djinn hisses in irritation as his eyes flash red. You like having this control over something as powerful as Tavarius, but you feel a tinge of guilt forcing him to be your slave. As well as excitement, the feeling when a kid plays with matches or a girl inviting the wrong guy home to have sex with him on her parents bed. A resounding crack from rolling shoulders is what it takes for Tavarius to whip up a cloud. You stare in awe as the mist forms an image, a man writing on parchment paper. He appears distressed as he scribbles down his words, another much older parchment is being held, but the lettering on it is unfamiliar to you. A monstrous being hunches over the man, claws digging into his shoulders not quite piercing the fabric of the shirt.   

“The Grand Grimoire,” Tavarius states as his cloud shifts to another scene. One where a man is walking hastily down a cobble street, his eyes wide in fear as he carries a cowhide bag. “There have been many myths about this book, from how it came to be to it’s location.” The man in the cloud turns down an alley just as hands grab hold of him, dragging him into the inky blackness. “Hell does not like loose ends.” The darkness retreats revealing the satchel untouched. A woman steps outside her home as if she didn’t witness any supernatural obductions. She spots the bag while scraping off mush from a plate. The woman quickly grabs the cowhide scurrying back inside. A man in black, hat to his boots, emerges from the shadows striding to the door.

“There’s only one known copy.” Tavarius twists his hands to change the imagery in the mist. You gaze upon marble floors with men walking them. Grand staircases spiral to a library lined and chained with books. A dark musty green book sits with others. “It’s within the Vatican’s Archives.”

“Can we-?” You start to ask, but a face full of steam hits you. You blink rapidly to gain your vision back noticing that Tavarius is no longer in your room. “Okay!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. Now that he has a human disguise, Tavarius bolts out the door when he feels like it. Is that how it will be for now on? You sigh plopping on your bed, you swear that Tavarius is doing some things just to get on your nerves.

A slam of a door forces you to flinch, was that him? Tavarius opens your door with a book in hand, one that looks it could fall apart at any given moment. He casually walks in, stops directly in front of you and holds out the book. You gingerly take it from his hands carefully opening the cover. A horned figure with its tongue hanging out while holding a branch is painted on the lower half of the page. Your eyes widen when you read ‘Le Dragon Rouge: Le Grand Grimoire’ in red.

“You stole it?!” You snap practically slapping the book shut. You feel heat rise in your face trying not to laugh at the thought of Tavarius just walking into the Vatican, asking for a book for ‘research’, then just zipping out of the place like the Roadrunner from Looney Toons once it was placed in his hands. “Why did you steal it? Isn’t the Vatican Library… a library? Couldn’t you have checked it out?”

“It was not available for the public.” Tavarius grunts opening a bottle of what you assume is wine. Cheeky bastard probably took that from the church too. “I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice!” You begin to go through the book, curiosity got the better of you in your annoyance. Faded diagrams in old English pop between pages as you furiously flip the pages. You could feel how old this book is, the incredibly soft paper had the texture of rose petals. Tavarius had taken a seat in your chair taking mouthfuls of wine. “What am I going to do with this?”

“Whatever you wish. Try summoning another demon.” Tavarius grunts sliding glancing outside spying something to his interest. You look up from your book to make a snide remark when you notice your djinn’s attention was somewhere else. You tilt your body to view pass Tavarius, two fashionable women walk by your house. These two are from the college you work at, you have seen them in the library a few times. One of them is wearing a pair of ripped shorts that barely cover her shapely rear and a deep v baby tee allowing her bosom to cheekily peek through. Her companion wears pale pink leggings with a black tank top, her panties outlined by the clinging fabric. 

At first, you think Tavarius is staring because he isn’t used to seeing such dress styles, but his predatory stare tells you otherwise. The room heats up with his arousal, you begin to get uncomfortable as your stomach knots up traveling downward. Were you attracted to these girls? You push the urge aside remembering that you will have to return to your job within two days.

“We need to talk.” You sigh closing the book in your hands. Tavarius hums prying his eyes away from the college girls. You slide forward until your feet properly touch the floor. “I have a job and I have to go back on Monday. That’s two days from now, so I have to set up some rules.” The sound that comes from Tavarius doesn’t sound too thrilling, it is a cross between a growl and a murmur.

“Rule 1: No leaving the house unless you have to. Getting groceries or checking on the shop is allowed.” You notice Tavarius’s position changed to one of complete boredom, leaning his head on his hand not holding the wine bottle. He looks like a teenager getting scolded.

“Rule 2: Have dinner ready for me by the time I get home. Unless, I am home then by six.” A long pull of wine with a groan.

“Rule 3: Keep the house clean, which includes laundry.” A hum in response and a quirk at the side of the mouth.

“Any questions?”

“Who will take the shop?” You were not expecting that at all, you blink in confusion trying to figure at the endgame. “It seems like no one is going to buy it and you have no interest in it. So why don’t I mind it?”

“You want to take over the shop?” You question very sure that Tavarius is drunk. Why would he want to mind the shop? What gain could he want from it? Suppose it did have a bunch of craft items that he is used to. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt? You let out a long exhale through your nose, “Okay, but no funny business. Meaning not having other people summon anything! And no Djinn Doomsday agendas!”

“Of course, mistress.” Tavarius smirks knowing fully well that you would try to ban him from freeing his brothers. He takes another swig from his bottle before holding it out to you. “Any other requirements?”

You take the bottle gingerly into your hand over judging the weight of it. More than half the bottle is gone you note as you inspect the label. You’re not entirely sure of what it says, but you take a sniff and recoil. The heavy stench of alcohol hits your nose, all those boring Sundays at Mass came flooding back to you. Your nose wrinkles at the odor jerking the bottle away. A chuckle takes you out of it, Tavarius’s eyes are gleaming as they do when you do something amusing.

“Uh,” You scramble your brain to think of any other rules for your djinn before you come across trouble. “Not as of right now.” You take a timid sip of the wine. The mellow fruity flavor dances on your tongue, it’s almost a sin for it to be this delicious. You steal another mouthful before handing it back, “As much fun as it would be to sit around and drink the day away. We have to clean my grandma’s room.”

You bounce off the bed, careful placing the grimoire on your desk for further reading. You cross the hall to the neighboring room swinging it open. You gasp at the sight before you: Everything of your grandmother owned is gone save for the vanity. You step inside marveling at the fine silks decorating the ceiling in grand arches swoops. Pillows litter the bed in vibrant warm colors of red, purple, and yellows. A rug lays on the floor with a beautiful design. The vanity seems to be the same, but the mirror shimmers in a light.

“No way.” You breathe out taking it all in. The room doesn’t look like it belongs here at all or even in this era.

“I have claimed this room.” Tavarius announces following you inside. “So, if you don’t mind,” A surge of energy buzzes behind you. You turn to find that he has switched back to his true form. “I would like to be alone in it.”

“Sure, sure.” You briskly get out of the room. You call out, “Tavarius.” The djinn stops before he can close the door, “I’ll be heading to the store. I would like for you to come with me, so be ready in an hour.” The old wood shuts with a powerful thump leaving you alone with thoughts of worry. You sigh brushing your hair back from your face. What are you going to do? You trek down the stairs deciding a cup of tea will do for now. Once you reach the bottom, you stop cold. Items of your grandmother’s clutter the living room leaving no space to move around.

“TAVARIUS!”


	6. Feeling Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tavarius gets some alone time... kind of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has NSFW themes in here. And you get to see a bit of Tavarius's life before the summoning. And getting that Tavarius is not any of the djinn from the previous movies.

How cute you are, such sweet naivety that graces you. Tavarius would love to rip it from the very fiber of your being. To suck on your marrow as he delicately severs your soul from your core. The image sends a shiver down his spine only to bloom in his groin. Liquid heat pools wetly as he pictures your terrified face streaked with tears. He can only imagine the noises you would make; would you scream like a banshee or mewl like an incubus in heat? Tavarius hopes it’s the later, it’ll be far more intimate in his depravity. With a yank, the djinn discards his loincloth baring his warm flesh. Now, his crotch is bulging, however a pink slit drip with lubricants just below where his cock should be.

Tavarius contemplates finding a human male to plow into his slit or have a female ride his dick. Those girls from earlier spurred on his frustrations, especially dressing as they were. Fucking the girl in pink would be fun. Being knot deep inside just to morph from his newly required human form into his true visage. At the thought of her reaction causes Tavarius is let out a low groan as his cock snakes out of its protective cove. He’s so hard that his knot pops out not long after.

“Shit.” Tavarius curses in his native tongue, there goes his plans of sneaking out to satisfy himself.

He carefully cups his knot in the crook of his thumb and forefinger giving it a light massage as his fingers brush his wet entrance. His breath hitches when he plunges his fingertips inside curling to get that full feeling. Tavarius begins to scissor his slit while pumping his digits. His other hand strokes his rigid cock adding to the pleasure he is currently enjoying. His red eyes roll as waves crash into him, the lights flickering from the energy leaving his body. His grip tightens turning nearly a blur as he fists himself chasing his climax. His thumb and finger that stimulates his knot goes in time with his furious strokes mimicking an orifice. The rest of his hand is almost knuckle deep inside his slit. His back arches from his mattress, head craning into the pillows.  

“Fuck!” Tavarius spits out gritting his teeth, feeling himself racing to that peek his has been craving. “Almost-there!”

“Having fun?”

Tavarius lets out a surprised yelp quickly slipping out his fingers from his slit, lubricants gushing onto the bed. He frantically looks around the room to find who is spying on him until he finds him. A youthful djinn grins catlike at Tavarius practically drooling at the sight of his cock. It wouldn’t have been so outlandish if it weren’t for the fact that this newcomer is staring at him through the mirror of the vanity.

Tavarius hisses at the young one, “What do you want? How did you even gain the power for this?”

“It was you!” The other djinn whines, black lip jutting out in a pout. “Your aura is lighting up the silver! Maybe you should continue so that we can invade!”

Tavarius lets out an amused chuckle, his slit is now dry, and his knot had retreated into its home, his shaft will follow. “Jairo, please. Optimism isn’t very djinn-like.”

“I know, teacher.” Jairo smiles beaming at Tavarius his shoulders hunching to his pointed ears. The older djinn takes in his pupil’s features. A little red in skin tone closer to a pinkish purple, his eyes are more on the yellow side than the usual crimson that most djinn had, and his lips were much plumper. His horns only barely reached his jaw indicating his age. “Teacher, when will you be back?”

“Jairo,” Tavarius didn’t know how to answer him. The look of heartbreak is upon the young one’s face, Tavarius swallows thickly thinking quickly. Before he could comprehend the words, he blurted out, “I’m searching for him.”

“The starred one?” Jairo perks up, hope glowing from his golden eyes. Black lips splitting into a wide smile showing straight teeth with double sharp canines, “Oh, teacher! The elders will be thrilled!”

“I bet they would.” Tavarius grumbles sliding to sit at the each of the bed closer to the mirror. “Or at least, one of our brothers trapped in this world.”

“Vidar? Or maybe Barak?” Jairo squeaks with excitement.

“We’ll see, boy.” Tavarius gives a smile. A knock at the door gains his attention, his head snaps up. “What is it?”

“I’m heading out, are you ready?”

“Damn.” Tavarius grunts standing to his full height. “Jairo, I must leave you.” The young djinn pouts sadly but brightens when he witnesses Tavarius morph into his human disguise. “Like it?”

“Yes, teacher.” Jairo bites his lower lip, his eyes hooded as he takes in Tavarius. “As if I wasn’t bothered by your… display earlier. I am now.” Tavarius gives a toothy grin as he hears the wet sounds of Jairo playing with his slit. “I want you to tend to me, teacher.”

“Seek Haluk. He will gladly tend to you.” Tavarius leans close to the mirror to the point where his nose brushes the glass. “I let him tend me in my needs.” Jairo squeals in delight. “Go, I will try to keep in contact.”

Tavarius watches as Jairo fades from the mirror until the older djinn’s reflection takes place instead. He cracks his neck adjusting his crotch as he walks to the door. He opens it to find you, dressed in a low v neck t-shirt and capris.

“Ready?” You ask smiling up at him. The same smile as Jairo would for his lessons.

“Yes.” Tavarius smirks sadly. You walk down the hall and he follows.

**Author's Note:**

> All criticisms are welcome! Please don't be afraid to comment!


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